


if i kissed you, i don’t think i’d be able to stop

by thebetterbina



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha!Captain Allen, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Omega!CyberLife Tower Connor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), i shouldve made the title edgy and just started the tags with anal, its not heavily talked about, that tag is now my favourite tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 16:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17871068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina
Summary: Silas giggled half-deliriously like the little shit he is, the sound muffled as he tried to suppress them against his arm. Allen doesn’t think it’d get worse, but then the snarky minx tightens around him. Tightens.Did his dick get caught in a Chinese finger trap?One's an unbonded Alpha, the other an Android Omega. Nothing could go wrong, right?





	if i kissed you, i don’t think i’d be able to stop

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [@arariren](https://twitter.com/arariren) for being my beta and lee for hardcore editing the fic and helping me with my enGLISH THAT IS APPARENTLY NONEXISTENT

When CyberLife had rolled out the first Androids—beautiful, blonde, a perfect smile and sparkling blue eyes to match—they'd conveniently decided that any service Android (unless specifically requested) would be made and sold as an  _ Omega _ . 

 

A synthetic, pseudo pheromone pumped, and entirely biologically responsive Omega.

 

It worked fine at first; attacks on human Omegas considerably lowered when there was something that smelled and looked exactly as good as the real thing. It didn’t matter if Alphas got a little too rough either; Androids weren’t alive. They didn’t have opinions, couldn’t complain if they ended up broken, and they certainly couldn’t file lawsuits for rape when they didn’t have rights.

 

Captain David Allen of Detroit’s SWAT team couldn’t decide if Kamski was either an ingenious motherfucker or just some sick pervert who threw fantasies onto machines.

 

He’d tried it once, those service clinics that offered up Android Omegas solely for single Alphas who needed to get through their rut without hurting anyone. It’d been offered for law enforcement officers as a bundled  _ special package _ , and his curiosity had gotten the better of him and demanded he tried it at least once.

 

And he did.

 

The experience drew out the worst parts of the rut and fogged over his brain to the point that when the haze inched away, and he’d stopped being led around by his cock — he’d felt a guilt so heavy he swore off the cursed  _ special package _ .

 

There had been something wrong with the whole picture — looking at a face too human, artificial red bites and purpling marks littered along flawless skin, voice practically hoarse from screaming asking him in a disconnected tone if he wanted the service Android to stay throughout the rest of the duration of the rut. 

 

It made him feel dirty.

 

Then the Android Revolution happened, all being led by the sole Alpha Android in existence — Markus — who’d been made as a special project on Kamski’s side and kept hidden as a caretaker Android for a close friend. 

 

The Android Revolution happened, and against all odds, in the biting cold of winter bitterness, the Androids had won.

 

It was really no surprise what happened next: Androids began having preferences and opting for the Omega features of their codes to be stripped away. They joined all sectors of human society, and began getting paid and recognized as a new sentient species.

 

So when the RK800 serial number #313 248 317 - 60, designated name “ _ Silas”, _ had joined the SWAT team — Allen and his team had been given a nasty little surprise when  _ Omega _ pheromones had managed to coat the rather cramped space of their barracks on their first introduction.

 

Five of the seven unbonded Alphas on the team — including himself,  _ the Captain for god’s sake _ — managed to get thrown into a mini version of a rut, causing at least a little panic with the Betas living in the barracks.

 

Jesus, how did he forget just how  _ potent _ their damn synthetic pheromones were?

 

And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t met Silas’s particular model before, he’d met the one named Connor — the one who’d stood by the side of the Deviant leader and as the head of the tens of thousands of escaped, newly deviated Androids that turned the tide of their revolution.

 

He’d met Connor on his first mission, on the windy rooftop with the first reported deviant case and little girl. Connor having smelled like  _ cream and strawberries _ and managing to attract the attention of some of his men back then — part of him wondered what was the point in making Androids so potent, but he hadn’t complained when Connor had, rather surprisingly, managed to talk the Beta Android down in a slow build up of rapport that showed for in the rather surprising use of empathy.

 

Then in comes his lookalike with recommendations and smelling like fizzy lemon soda, and he could practically  _ taste _ the carbonation in the air, goddammit.

 

It’d been a tense first few days — the Alphas getting used to the idea that an Omega would be living in such close quarters with them on the clock. It wasn’t like they didn’t have Omegas on the team however, their best sniper was an Omega, but she’d opted to live with her bonded mate rather than in a den of sweaty and bordering feral Alphas.

 

The first incident keeps them all in line.

 

It’d been a freak accident, Kevin was made with just a little more muscle than actual brain when he’d decided to lay a hand on Silas — his rut was a little evident, and the tone he used clearly got some of the team members set on a nervous edge when the Android had tensed at the touch.

 

Within half a second, Kevin  _ screamed _ .

 

The sickening crunch of bones breaking his set instincts on overdrive, the recognition that something just a little bigger than them was in the room and out for blood.

 

“ _ Never _ .”

 

He remembers the voice, in the same way Connor had spoken but filled with so much venom that it sent his heart racing.

 

“ _ And I repeat — never,  _ **_ever_ ** _ fucking touch me again. Capisce? _ ”

 

Allen had the weirdest boner afterward.

 

There’d been a visible change from then on, once the team relaxing realized they didn’t have to skirt around the Android when he could clearly take care of himself.

 

That was one of the changes — the other being the shift of Silas’s treatment towards him.

 

It started small, with those barely soft brushing touches he’d write off as coincidental, words that grew progressively teasing, the defiance he shows rather publicly to the point he’s had to put his foot down more than once with just how mouthy Silas had steadily become. 

 

Were the RK800s always this obstinate?

 

And when his damn rut just had to appear, of course, the Android manages to sniff it on him.

 

What he doesn’t expect, however, is when Silas very casually decides to offer himself up. He dropped his pants and presented his ass like some debauched scene straight out of an Alphas fantasies — setting his skin on fire and nerves on the edge when he’d caught sight of the viscous leaking fluid from the tight, pert ass.

 

“Not gonna break my hand?”   
  
“I’m offering aren’t I?”

 

Kamski was, well and truly, a sick fucking bastard.

 

However, being balls deep in one of those Androids meant he's not exactly qualified to have that opinion now.

 

When he sunk into the wet heat—succeeded by the flutter of tightness around him, and the breathy, wanton mewl—all rational thoughts tip their hats goodbye and hop out the window.

 

His low growl remains feral, riled and fierce, choked with Alpha command as his teeth sink into the back of the Omega's neck. Supple skin breaking on contact, the satisfaction of a red mark quickly blooming on claimed skin. The breathy little cry remains music to his ears, a lovely sound to the more primal parts of himself that wanted to own and dominate such an exquisite creature. 

 

There's still a part of the hormone-induced sex craze that understands the Omega beneath him isn't human — but he gives kudos to whoever made the experience so close to reality the Alpha rut remains stupid and locked on hormones as his dick rocks into the tight heat with repeated, harsh thrusts.

 

Allen’s hips rolled forward greedily, fucking into the brunet, opening up him up a little more and getting deeper with each pass. The bruising grip he has on the Omega’s hips remained tight, nails digging into skin enough to leave marks.

 

The air remains thick with his scent, a heavy musk mixed with sex — the walls are thankfully proofed against and for these things, but he knows it’ll soon be strong enough that his boys remain at least a little weary as they pass the room. It’s hard maintaining a majorly Alpha pack, but they respected each other’s space and that was really all that was needed to make sure they didn’t start ripping each other’s throat out.

 

A part of him feels the little itch of guilt for what he’s doing, but that remains shadowed by the delight of the heat that he slips in and out of — the Omega is sloppily wet, slick coating thighs, soft keen of broken little whimpers with every particularly hard rock of his hips kept up with the punishing rhythm.

 

He watches delicate fingers crook and struggle over the edges of the table, moaning filthily as he angled and ground down on the little nub he’d known could make stars burst or whatever that did the same for Androids.

 

His breathing remains ragged, breath fanning over the crook of the Omega’s neck, his next word remains heavy with dominance, demanding total obedience. It’s the reply that sets him on the edge.

 

“Mine.”

 

“Yours.”

 

Everything goes a little hazy after that, with the heat and pressure, the feeling of his own cock swelling with his knot along the already stretched rim — the sharp gasp as he came, thick heavy spurts spilling into the Android who takes it all with a stride. He watches the brunet writhe, struggling lightly against the pressure, back arching beautifully as the haze of the Alpha rut keeps him drugged for just a few moments longer before receding.

 

“Shit,  _ shit _ — are you okay?”

 

There’s mild panic seeping in. He’d managed to repress his ruts for so long and the bruises leaving butterfly trails on the Android really leave no room for imagination just how badly his body had reacted to going for so long without someone to help him get through the entire process.

 

Silas giggled half-deliriously like the little shit he is, the sound muffled as he tried to suppress them against his arm. Allen doesn’t think it’d get worse, but then the snarky minx  _ tightens  _ around him.  _ Tightens _ .

 

Did his dick get caught in a Chinese finger trap?

 

“ _ Fuck _ — okay, you could’ve just said yes. Jesus.”

 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

 

He swatted his hand against the Android’s ass.

 

“Cheeky little shit.”

 

“Well, now I’m  _ your _ cheeky little shit.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
